


Trade the Bad for the Good (and Leave All the Rest)

by hawkenpuck (midnightghostwriter)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, That's it, literally just tooth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightghostwriter/pseuds/hawkenpuck
Summary: in which hawke informs fenris she loves the things about him he hates





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am FenHawke trash, so this drabble was written at 3am with the help of my darling, robotichawk, as a remedy to some icky feelings I was dealing with. If you don't like soft kisses and romance and fluff, then this isn't for you.
> 
> Cross-posted to my tumblr, hawkenpuck

“Have I ever told you I love these?”

Forest green swirled with the utmost confusion as he glanced down. Curled into his side like a pleased cat, Marian Hawke’s own dark orbs sparkled with both glee at the rather taken aback look on his face (something that was quite hard to accomplish with him), and more gentle embers of affection. As this provided no elaboration to her query, Fenris answered it with one of his own.

“Sorry, what?” The mirth in her warm laughter was palpable, and while it pricked at his ego and sent his figurative hackles rising (old habits die hard), it was a sound he quite enjoyed. Laughter meant she was happy, and he was still getting used to that. _Happy, free,_ in their hidden world, far away from lives that had been less than so.

As the thoughts trickled through his mind – he rather suspected Varric would have accused him of _brooding_ – he didn’t notice how she shifted into sitting, nor how she moved ever so slightly closer. He did, however, notice when her fingers began to slide across his skin. More specifically, across his… _disfigurement._ A mild noise of protest formed in his throat before he choked it down. This, too, was something to which he was not yet accustomed. Never before had another person been allowed to so much as _see_ the marks and live – never, until her.

The iridescent lines that marked paths torn in his skin were, in his opinion, prettily dressed scars from a life he had fought so hard to free himself of. Years, ages even, of horrid memories he wanted to erase, their nature both mental (engraved in every cavern and recess of his mind, allowing him no escape, even in dreams, from their torment), and physical (the flinches and instincts so long settled in his bones that he was no longer sure he could shake them, not even for her). For so long the markings had been a tool – one that disgusted him but had become increasingly necessary.

As if she were reading his mind – and he wouldn’t put it past her to have picked up a new trick like that – Marian’s hands paused on his shoulders, the mattress shifting beneath him as she moved in front of him to hold his gaze.

“I know how lowly you think of these,” she murmured, one finger following a line up the column of his throat. “But I rather like them.” He cast her the most askance look he could manage.

“You must think you have a good reason for it,” was his skeptical reply, and she smiled.

“I do. I _know_ I do.” She inched closer as he waited for her to elaborate. “You see, lover, if it weren’t for these marks you so despise, we never would have met.” A pause followed the words, like she was waiting for the full weight of them to sink in, and it did a few moments later. For though most things the shining lyrium carvings reminded him of were dark indeed, they had become part of him as well. Had he never foolishly undergone that absurd ceremony, he would not have escaped when he did, come to Kirkwall when he did, _met her_ when he did (and he shuddered to imagine that she might be at the side of that blasted Warden Mage now instead of him).

Yes, it seemed some good could be found from them after all.

His contemplation was again splendidly interrupted by her, as she pressed a finger to the creases forming where his brows drew together. With a chuckle she smoothed the lines away, and leaned up to press a kiss to the spot. It was followed by her lips meeting with his nose, at which he flinched in surprise. Finally, her mouth alighted on his, warm, soft, and perfect. She nipped at his bottom lip playfully, tongue soothing across the spot before she pulled away. When he met her gaze again, the love and warmth in it was almost overwhelming. Certainly it did prevent him from fighting her logic, or making any other objections before she spoke again.

“Not so bad after all, hm?” she purred.

And as she pressed her lips against his again, with a heightened fervor that sent his blood singing, Fenris found himself agreeing that perhaps it truly wasn’t _all_ bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed this little piece of fluff. Since this is my first official piece of writing for the DA fandom, I would really appreciate some kudos, comments and the like letting me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


End file.
